THE Author had resolved to omit the following version of a well-known Poem, in any collection which he might make of his poetical trifles. But the publishers having pleaded for its admission, the Author has consented, though not unaware of the disadvantage at which this youthful essay (for it was written in 1795) must appear with those which have been executed by much more able hands, in particular that of Mr. Taylor of Norwich, and that of Mr. Spencer. The following Translation was written long before the Author saw any other, and originated in the following circumstances:-A lady of high rank in the literary world read this romantic tale, as translated by Mr. Taylor, in the house of the celebrated Professor Dugald Stewart of Edinburgh. The Author was not present, nor indeed in Edinburgh at the time; but a gentleman who had the pleasure of hearing the ballad, afterwards told him the story, and repeated the remarkable chorus "Tramp! tramp! across the land they speede, In attempting a translation then intended only to circulate among friends, the present Author did not hesitate to make use of this impressive stanza; for which freedom he has since obtained the forgiveness of the ingenious gentleman to whom it properly belongs. FROM heavy dreams fair Helen rose, With gallant Fred'rick's princely power With Paynim and with Saracen Our gallant host was homeward bound Green waved the laurel in each plume, The badge of victory. And old and young, and sire and son, Full many a maid her true-love met, Nor joy nor smile for Helen sad: She sought the host in vain ; For none could tell her William's fate, If faithless, or if slain. The martial band is past and gone; "O rise, my child," her mother said, "O mother, what is gone, is gone, "O break, my heart, O break at once! "O enter not in judgment, Lord!" The pious mother prays; "Impute not guilt to thy frail child! She knows not what she says. "O say thy pater noster, child! "O mother, mother, what is bliss? O mother, what is bale? My William's love was heaven on earth, Without it earth is hell. "Why should I pray to ruthless Heaven, Since my loved William's slain ? I only pray'd for William's sake, The clank of echoing steel was heard And slowly on the winding stair And hark! and hark! a knock-Tap! tap! Door-latch and tinkling staples ring;- "Awake, awake, arise, my love! Wak'st thou, or sleep'st? laugh'st thou, or weep'st? Hast thought on me, my fair?" "My love! my love!-so late by night!-- Much have I borne since dawn of morn; "We saddle late-from Hungary "O rest this night within my arms, And warm thee in their fold! Chill howls through hawthorn bush the wind: My love is deadly cold." "Let the wind howl through hawthorn bush! This night we must away; The steed is wight, the spur is bright; "Busk, busk, and boune! Thou mount'st behind Upon my black barb steed: O'er stock and stile, a hundred miles, "To-night-to-night a hundred miles!- The bell strikes twelve-dark, dismal hour! O wait, my love, till day! Ceased clang and song; down sunk the bier; And, forward! forward! on they go; "O William, why this savage haste? "No room for me?"-"Enough for both;- surge, He drove the furious horse. Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode, The scourge is wight, the spur is bright, Flod past on right and left how fast On right and left fled past how fast "Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear, Dost fear to ride with me?Hurrah! hurrah! the dead can ride!""O William, let them be!- "See there, see there! What yonder swings And creaks 'mid whistling rain?"-"Gibbet and steel, th' accursed wheel; A murderer in his chain.- "Hollo! thou felon, follow here: And thou shalt prance a fetter dance And, hurry! hurry! clash, clash, clash! And fleet as wind through hazel bush The wild carcer attends. Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode, How fled what moonshine faintly show'd! "Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear, And well the dead can ride: Does faithful Helen fear for them?""O leave in peace the dead!"— "Barb! Barb! methinks I hear the cock; The sand will soon be run: Barb! Barb! I smell the morning air; Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode, "Hurrah! hurrah! well ride the dead; Reluctant on its rusty hinge And by the pale moon's setting beam With many a shriek and cry whiz round O'er many a tomb and tombstone pale He check'd the wondrous course. The falling gauntlet quits the rein, The eyes desert the naked skull, The furious barb snorts fire and foam, And leaves her on the ground. Half scen by fits, by fits half heard, Wheel round the maid in dismal dance, "E'en when the heart's with anguish cleft, THIS ballad was written at the request of Mr. LEWIS, to be inserted in his "Tales of Wonder."I It is the third in a series of four ballads, on the subject of Elementary Spirits. The story is, however, partly historical; for it is recorded, that, during the struggles of the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem, a Knight-Templar, called Saint-Alban, deserted to the Saracens, and defeated the Christians in many combats, till he was finally routed and slain, in a conflict with King Baldwin, under the walls of Jerusalem. "Now palmer, grey palmer, O tell unto me, What news bring you home from the Holy Countrie? And how goes the warfare by Galilee's strand? And how fare our nobles, the flower of the land?"- "O well goes the warfare by Galilee's wave, For Gilead, and Nablous, and Ramah we have; And well fare our nobles by Mount Lebanon, For the Heathen have lost, and the Christians have won." A fair chain of gold 'mid her ringlets there hung: O'er the palmer's grey locks the fair chain has she flung: **O palmer, grey palmer, this chain be thy fee, For the news thou hast brought from the Holy Countrie. "And, palmer, good palmer, by Galilee's wave, O saw ye Count Albert, the gentle and brave? When the Crescent went back, and the Red cross rush'd on, O saw ye him foremost on Mount Lebanon?". Published in 1801. Eastern Tale. "O lady, fair lady, the tree green it grows; O lady, fair lady, the stream pure it flows; Your castle stands strong, and your hopes soar on high; But, lady, fair lady, all blossoms to die. It The green boughs they wither, the thunderbolt falls, leaves of your castle but levin-scorch'd walls; The pure stream runs muddy; the gay hope is gone; Count Albert is prisoner on Mount Lebanon." O she's ta'en a horse, should be fleet at her speed; And she's ta'en a sword, should be sharp at her need; And she has ta'en shipping for Palestine's land, To ransom Count Albert from Soldanrie's hand. Small thought had Count Albert on fair Rosalie, Small thought on his faith, or his knighthood, had he; A heathenish damsel his light heart had won, The Soldan's fair daughter of Mount Lebanon. "O Christian, brave Christian, my love wouldst thou be, He has thrown by his helmet, and crosshandled sword, Renouncing his knighthood, denying his Lord; He has ta'en the green caftan, and turban put on, For the love of the maiden of fair Lebanon. And in the dread cavern, deep deep under ground, Unmeasured in height, undistinguish'd in form, His breath it was lightning, his voice it was storm; I ween the stout heart of Count Albert was tame, When he saw in his terrora the Monarch of Flame. Which fifty steel gates and steel portals sur- In his hand a broad falchion blue-glimmered round, He has watch'd until daybreak, but sight saw Far off was their murmur, it came not more nigh, The flame burn'd unmoved, and nought else did he spy. Loud murmur'd the priests, and amazed was the King, through smoke, Count Albert has arm'd him the Paynim among, Though his heart it was false, yet his arm it was strong; And the Red-cross wax'd faint, and the Crescent came on, While many dark spells of their witchcraft From the day he commanded on Mount they sing; Lebanon. |